


Consultive Detective to-be

by GayAvocad0



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I'll never know how to tag, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-The Final Problem, Rosie is 6, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAvocad0/pseuds/GayAvocad0
Summary: “Yes Papa,” Rosie said hopping off the bench and on the ground. Sherlock froze at the nickname and left Rosie confused with her hand outstretched toward him for a few seconds. “Are you okay?” This question brought the man back to reality.Or: Rosie starts to call Sherlock Papa, and after a few revelations on Sherlock's part, she tries to set him up with her father. Smart Rosie, flustered Sherlock and confused John.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 364





	Consultive Detective to-be

Rosie was happily telling Sherlock how her teacher had promised them to talk to them about dinosaurs today. The man was nodding or humming from time to time, only half listening to the little girl’s happy babbling and trying to get her to walk faster. He wasn’t fully awake yet. See, the previous day, he had told John he would take Rosie to school because the doctor had to be at work earlier than usual (which would happen on regular basis). But he had also kind of forgot about it until his phone had chimed and revealed a text from John himself asking if they were on their way. Luckily, Rosie was much more responsible and had set an alarm on her own, so she was already up and almost ready when Sherlock had burst through the door of his bedroom in complete panic. Not that surprising since it wasn’t the first time it happened. He often had to take Rosie to school since John and her moved (back) in 221b Baker Street.

They arrived in front of the school right on time and apparently, they weren’t the last ones because a few parents were also running around with alarmed looks on their faces.

Rosie had stopped talking and was now staring a small boy kissing the cheek of his dad and letting out a quick “goodbye papa, love you” before running with his short legs through the school’s entrance. She looked back at Sherlock and tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to solve a mystery. Sherlock always felt exposed and uncomfortable under the gaze of this kid (or any other kid, seriously they’re all a little bit creepy) because it was like all his life and secrets were written on his forehead and she could figure them out effortlessly. He swallowed and nudged her toward the gates “Come on, you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but someone was coming to close the doors, so he gently pushed her towards the entrance and muttered a rapid “have a nice day, bye” as she jogged almost eagerly towards her school.

All the tension was released from Sherlock’s shoulder the second she disappeared through the doors. He sighed and started heading back to Baker Street while typing a text to John.

_Rosie is at school. Mission accomplished._

_SH_

_You woke up late again didn’t you?_

_She’s at school, we were on time, I don’t see any problem here._

_SH_

_Yeah whatever you say could you pick her up from school too? On time of course_

_Sure. I’m always on time John._

_SH_

The rest of the day dragged on fairly slowly for Sherlock he spent most of it mixing chemicals on the kitchen table (which resulted in one of John’s jumpers having a huge hole in its front). Soon he found himself waiting in front of Rosie’s school among parents and nannies. She arrived quickly, her blonde ponytail bouncing up and down with every step she took. Sherlock carried her small backpack for her (like every time he’d picked her up) and hold her tiny hand in his much bigger own to avoid losing her in the crowd of people that surrounded the school. The little girl started explaining things about dinosaurs (creatures that seemed to be her main interest at the moment) to Sherlock and she took this job very seriously.

Rosie interrupted her monologue. “Can we go to the park to get ice cream?” She asked turning her head toward Sherlock, already putting on her pouty face, knowing it’s her best weapon against Sherlock weak heart. He knew that he would have to get her ice cream no matter the weather.

“Alright, alright no need for this face.” He sighed and Rosie beamed at him and returned at her lecture about velociraptors. He wasn’t going to say no anyway. He couldn’t find himself able to say no Rosie. A skill that must run in the Watson family, making Sherlock melt because of their adorableness.

It was a sunny (but windy and chilly) day so there were quite a few people hanging out in Regent’s Park and it almost took them 20 minutes to get ice creams. They sat on a bench and Rosie filled the silence with the story of what she did to school today. She was a very talkative and confident kid and no matter what he said to the others, Sherlock was very fond of her and it was hard to get bored when everything she said was so dramatic it could have come from an epic story of a superhero, even if she was just talking about the zoo.

“Come on we’ve gotta go home or else we won’t have time to finish your homework before Daddy comes back from work and he’s going to be really angry with me.” Of course, he knew John would never be _really_ angry with him. Not anymore at least.

“Yes Papa,” Rosie said hopping off the bench and on the ground. Sherlock froze at the nickname and left Rosie confused with her hand outstretched toward him for a few seconds. “Are you okay?” This question brought the man back to reality.

“Yes, yes of course…” He took her hand and they started walking back in direction of Baker Street. Only a few seconds after they were out of the park, Sherlock cut Rosie off her reciting of the story their teacher had told them. “Look, Rosie um, er… You know you called me…” The word had trouble getting out of his throat. “… Papa? Yeah?” She nodded with a slightly worried look on her face. “Yes well, you can’t call me that.”

“Why not?” She sounded genuinely bemused.

“Well simply because I’m not.” Sherlock answered hoping it would make enough sense for a six-year-old. Lots of things didn’t make sense to kids and it was sometimes irritating.

“You’re not?” Rosie looked offended now.

“No but that’s okay! I don’t have to be related to you to be emotionally attached to you, you understand?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t understand why I can’t call you papa like Mark does with his daddy. You take me to school like he does, you take me to the park to eat chocolate ice cream like he does, you help me with my homework like he does, you make be dinner when Daddy is coming home late, you-“

“Alright, alright I get it but it’s simply a name you know? A word. Why don’t you just call me Sherlock like you always have?”

“Because.”

Since Rosie had come into his life, Sherlock had learned a lot about children. And one of those things was that it was impossible to have a real argument with them because most of the time, they didn’t even know what the argument was about or couldn’t care less about its topic as long as they got the end of it.

They arrived in front of the flat and Sherlock wanted more than anything to end this conversation quickly. “Okay you know what? Call me Papa if you want but don’t do it in front of Daddy okay?”

“Why not in front of Daddy?”

Not knowing how to explain to a little kid how in love he was with her father and how this nickname would mean he’s her parent, so in a relationship with her other parent and how he was not sure this other parent would appreciate it, he only avoided any explanation at all like she had done before. “Not sure he’d like it… Do we have a deal?”

She seemed to consider it for a few moments before shrugging. “Okay Papa!” She shook his hand solemnly and grinned at him.

He himself couldn’t keep the fond smile tugging at his lips as he unlocked the door and Rosie kept talking. He really liked this kid like she was his own.

When John got home, Rosie stopped calling Sherlock “papa” as they had established but she kept glancing at him knowingly as if she was very proud of their secret. At some point, Sherlock thought he saw John looking at both of them suspiciously like he knew what kind of false ideas his flatmate was putting in his daughter’s mind. This made the detective very nervous.

-

Sherlock grew accustomed to the nickname Rosie was giving him very quickly and was sometimes even surprised when she would call him by his actual name, before realizing John was in the room. He quite liked it to be honest. He could consider himself like an important element of Rosie’s (and John’s) life whenever she called him “papa”. He still felt guilty from time to time but mostly, Rosie referring him as her father had become natural.

Sometimes too natural. There had been times when she almost slipped up and called him that in presence of her actual father. Those times had made Sherlock’s heart race so fast he had had to isolate himself in his room for a few minutes in order to calm down (the first time, Rosie had thought she was mad at him and had started crying in the arm of a very confused John).

There was another small problem. Rosie had been telling her classmates and teacher that her “papa is the cleverest human and solves mysteries” (John sometimes allowed Sherlock to tell her about cases they had solved but made sure to make up a censored version before because talking about psychopaths and serial killers to a six year old girl couldn’t possibly have a good impact on her future). And now, Sherlock was sitting in a chair across the little girl’s teacher (next to the said little girl), discussing about whether he could come to Rosie’s class to present the work of a policeman.

Rosie was buzzing with excitement, but Sherlock couldn’t picture himself talking about a job he didn’t do ( _he wasn’t a bloody policeman for fuck’s sake_ ) in front of a bunch of judgmental kids. “I’m sorry but um… I’m very busy at the moment,” that was a big lie considering it’d been months since he had been offered a truly interesting case “but surely I’ll find time at some point… Eventually…” He wasn’t planning to “find time” for anything that would remotely involve him with dozens of six-year-olds.

“That’s okay I understand. Oh! By the way, I haven’t seen your husband in a long time, is he alright?”

“Yeah John just has a busy schedule for now.”

“Oh good then.”

Sherlock only realized his mistake when Rosie stared at him a wide-eyed and shocked. It was obvious that Rosie’s teacher was talking about John so Sherlock hadn’t really thought before answering her. Which he probably should have. He pointedly ignored the little girl’s facial expression and shook the teacher’s hand while saying goodbye to her.

But of course, Rosie was a clever kid (Sherlock sometimes regretted teaching her easy deducing methods when she has asked a couple of months ago, it only sharpened her already brilliant mind) and she wasn’t going to let this go.

“Why did you say Daddy and you were married?” She paused but added something out of doubt. “You’re not married, are you?”

“No.” How could such a small person like her make him panic more than some grown-ups?

“Do you want to get married? Do you plan to get married? It would be so cool because I know married people sleep in the same room and so I wouldn’t have to share with Daddy anymore. Sophia has her own room you know?”

Sherlock had not idea who Sophia was but that wasn’t his main concern right then. “That’s not-” He sighed. “No, we are not planning on getting married because marriage usually requires for both people to be in love or at least in a relationship.”

Rosie’s brows were furrowed like she was thinking really hard and trying to deduce Sherlock complicated, messy feelings. “But Daddy and you love each other.” She said it like she was stating the most common and known fact.

“Not the same way as people who get married do.”

“Is it like in the movie I watched with Daddy last week, when the girl is in love with the boy, kisses him and is really sad when he goes away?”

The detective raised an eyebrow. Apparently, John had been showing sappy movies to his daughter. He smiled at that thought, it was such a John Watson thing to do. “Yes I guess you can say it’s like that.”

Rosie nodded like she was starting to understand. “Ok so Daddy and you are not in love, you don’t kiss, and you don’t want to get married.”

“Well _he_ doesn’t want that…” He mumbled this part, sure that Rosie wouldn’t be able to hear it. But he was once again proven wrong by the smart girl.

She gasped. “You’re in love with Daddy!”

“No! I mean yes but no shhhhh,” Every bit of knowledge about the English language had got lost in the deepest part of his Mind Palace. He didn’t know what to say or if he should say something. It was John’s daughter dammit, why would he say that?

“We have to tell him! He’s gonna be so happy!”

She was already trying to tug Sherlock along with her tiny hands holding tightly Sherlock’s trembling own. “N-no wait Rosie you can’t tell anyone!”

She stopped moving to look back at him. “Why?”

He crouched down in front of her to be on her level. “Because then, Daddy would be really upset. He would be upset that I love him that way and angry that I told you, you understand?”

Rosie shook her head. “I don’t. Daddy wouldn’t be angry with you. He can’t.”

Sherlock knew it would be useless and too long to explain the complexity of relationships between adults. “Ok uh… You don’t have to understand alright? Just don’t talk about it to anyone else. It’s like a _really_ important secret. Like in that spy movie remember? Spies have to keep secrets so let’s play spies.” Sherlock had learnt kids would listen better if you made a favor sound like a game or something that interested them at least a little.

The girl still seemed confused about the whole story but looked like she accepted it and nodded. Sherlock let out a relieved sigh and they continued their walk back to the flat. Nothing changed from usual, Rosie still talked all the way to their home and called him papa. In fact, Sherlock was under the impression she was using that nickname more often than she did during their other walks home.

-

“And today, Mark told me he wanted to be my boyfriend because he loves me. But he’s also my best friend. So I told him I wanted him to stay my best friend. But I wasn’t mad.” They were all sitting on the sofa eating sandwiches (the kitchen table wasn’t available for the moment due to an experiment that ended badly (well in John’s opinion at least). Sherlock was only half listening to what the little girl was saying but the question she asked made him choke on his tuna sandwich. “Daddy, would you be mad if your best friend wanted to be your boyfriend like Mark asked me today?”

John chuckled and casted a sideway glance to Sherlock. “No, I probably wouldn’t- _Sherlock oh my gosh you’re choking!_ ”

After a lot of coughing and small panicking, Sherlock managed to finish eating normally while hoping everyone would forget about that embarrassing bit. Rosie had looked guilty and ha quickly ran to the kitchen to bring a glass of water in order to silently apologize. They finished their meal normally with no more choking or embarrassing question on Rosie’s behalf. That didn’t stop Sherlock from feeling extremely nervous.

When Sherlock went to say good night to Rosie and tell her a bedtime story (which was a simplified and sometimes less gross version of one of the cases he solved) as usual, she apologized at least a thousand times. Sherlock told her it was okay every time, but apparently, he wasn’t very convincing because she kept asking him if he was sure about that.

Finally, he went back downstairs and sat across John his armchair. The man in front of him was on the phone and nodding at whatever the person on the other line was saying. From the smile on his face and the furtive and excited looks he was giving Sherlock, the detective guessed he was on the phone with Lestrade and was offering them an interesting case.

“Ok sure- well he’s right here so you can talk to him,” John extended his hand toward Sherlock at the same time as the latter reached forward. When their eyes met, Sherlock saw the excitement on John’s face and remembered how it had been since they worked together on a case, since they barged on a crime scene together and saw Sally’s annoyed face greeting them. So no matter how boring he would find whatever Lestrade would offer him, he would accept it. To please John. And maybe himself too.

The case turned out to be a quite ordinary murder with jealousy for a motive and someone being simply shot (couldn’t people be more inventive these days? And how could Lestrade be so blind? Even him should have seen all this) and not even the whole night had been necessary for it to be solved and closed.

Still, it had made John happy for a few hours so really, Sherlock didn’t even mind.

They decided to walk back home rather than take a cab. The way John had asked if they could walk, and was often inhaling deeply as if he was going to start talking, made Sherlock believe that his friend wanted to talk to him about something. Something important judging by the nervousness of John. Which only made Sherlock nervous, something he was quite rarely.

“John, whatever it is you want to share with me you should say it quickly because we’re nearing the apartment.” He said calmly in spite of the stress that was slowly taking over him. _What if John wanted to move out of the apartment? Of London? Of the country? What if he had a girlfriend? God, what if Rosie told him about that stupid thing?_ Many more irrational thoughts came across his mind in the span of a few seconds. He realized once more that John Watson had change him in many ways, because he was one of the most rational people of the world and it was very unlikely for him to worry over someone. Well, unless it was John Watson.

John chuckled. “Of course you would know I wanted to talk to you.” His tone was almost fond, and it eased Sherlock a little bit. “It’s just,” Pause. “Do you think I’m enough for Rosie?” He looked up, his eyes full of concern and maybe a little of sadness.

Sherlock was taken aback. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t even sure he understood the question. “What do you mean?”

John sighed and lowered his gaze again. “Well she’s been asking me about people being in love and… and how her friends have two parents and…” John didn’t finish his sentence. Something he did too often if you asked Sherlock.

“It’s probably not about you. It’s something children do a lot, asking question to their parents. It’s their way to discover the world.” Yes, Sherlock knew exactly why Rosie had been talking about that to her father and yes, he had been reading a lot of articles on internet about children on internet, but John did _not_ need to know any of that.

“No no it’s not like that it’s directed at me I- tonight for example, while we were eating, she asked _me_ specifically! And it’s been going on for at least two weeks!” John was starting to sound really distressed. “And you know young kids can be mean to each other! What if her classmates make fun of her or something!”

“Why… Why would they make fun of her?” Sherlock was genuinely confused. As far as he knew, having only one parent was not something that could possibly be twisted into something that the others could make fun of. It was truly absurd.

“I don’t know but kids are stupid when they’re 6!”

Sherlock couldn’t disagree (well not entirely, Rosie was 6 and she was brilliant).

“Do you think I should… y’know, start dating again?”

Sherlock felt his stomach drop and had the sudden urge to vomit when the thought of John with someone else entered his mind. _No, no you shouldn’t. You and Rosie should stay with me forever in Baker Street_ , he wanted to say. But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to John and he knew it. Yet, he couldn’t imagine a future where John wasn’t by his side and had found someone else (again).

He cleared his throat. “Well, I think that you should only if you want to.” There was a mildly uncomfortable silence between them. Sherlock decided to add something to try and reassure John about this whole thing. “Um… Also, I wouldn’t worry too much about Rosie feeling about because she only has one parent. You’re more than enough for her and uh… I think I might know where all of this is coming from. I’ll talk with her about it okay?” He inhaled shakily waiting for John’s response.

John only took his cold hand in his warm one and squeezed it. When Sherlock turned his head to face John, he was met by a soft and fond smile. “Thank you, Sherlock,” His voice was barely above a whisper. And somehow, Sherlock knew this wasn’t only about him talking with Rosie about this issue.

As they kept getting nearer the apartment, John did _not_ let go of Sherlock’s hand. During the last five minutes of walking that would lead them back home, Sherlock hoped and _hoped_ no one they knew would cross their path, because if they did run into someone, John would feel the need to prove his heterosexuality and manliness and would drop his hand immediately.

They arrived at 221b without seeing anyone (it _was_ 3 in the morning) and if at some point John intertwined their fingers, neither of them mentioned it.

-

“Ready Dr. Watson?” Sherlock asked, talking solemnly, goggles, lab coat and latex gloves on.

“Yes, Detective Sherlock Holmes!” Rosie answered as solemnly, with a grave expression (she was taking the situation very seriously). She was wearing the same attire as Sherlock, only the pans of her lab coat were dragging on the floor and the sleeves were rolled up.

“No Rosie, we said-“

“Oh right, sorry Papa! Yes, _Consulting_ Detective Sherlock Holmes! I am ready!” She was smiling widely at Sherlock when he gave her thumbs up. “Wait, can I change my name?” She suddenly asked.

“Of course,” The man chuckled.

“Then I wanna be called Dr. Rosie Watson- _Holmes_!”

Sherlock stopped breathing at once hearing his and John’s name together and sounding so, _so right_. He managed to pull himself together quickly and regain the use of his lungs. “Alright Dr. Watson-Holmes! Let’s get to work.”

With that, Sherlock pulled a small stool near the kitchen table for Rosie to stand on it and got behind her.

It was the holiday for Rosie and a few days without doing anything got her as bored as Sherlock would become whenever his life turned dull for an elongated period of time. Thus had begun the incessant complaints (to which John wouldn’t assist because he was working all day) of Rosie. It had been quite repetitive, really, and consisted mostly of different ways of saying “Papa, I’m bored, and I want you to find me something to do.” (he had occupied on of the afternoons talking with her about not confronting her father to any conversation that had the goal of setting John and Sherlock together). She had then been more precise about what she wanted and said she’d like to do experiments with him.

Sherlock had been delighted to hear that Rosie (there was no point lying to himself and not admitting he actually considered her as his own daughter after living with her for almost 6 years) shared interests with him. He had thought of a lot of experiments that they could do but practically all of them included body parts or products that could kill you if you weren’t careful. Since Sherlock deeply cared about Rosie’s safety and did not want to live this world by the hand of John Watson, he had decided to settle on the harmless (but painfully useless) experiment that he had done as a child: The Baking Soda and Vinegar Volcano Eruption.

That would occupy Rosie (and Sherlock) and ensure her safety (and Sherlock’s). Nothing could go wrong.

It went slightly wrong.

No one was dead (which was _good_ ) but the kitchen table (or the kitchen altogether) probably wouldn’t be available for a quite a time. Oh well, it wasn’t as if it hadn’t already happened in the past.

Besides, Rosie laughter and amazement had made every potential hour John would make him spend cleaning the kitchen worth it. He would never admit such a thing out loud obviously.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

Sherlock turned and saw John smiling and shaking his head at the state of the room Rosie and him where in.

There were moments like that, during which Sherlock almost believed John would return his feelings. That he would be favourable to including Sherlock in his family. It happened when he was looking at Sherlock like he was doing right then, his eyes full of tenderness, fondness and dared he believe, love.

Rosie went to hug her father around the waist. “Daddy! We made a volcano! I’m a scientist!”

“Yes I can see that by the colour of, well, most of the furniture in the kitchen.” John chuckled.

“Ah yes, I uh… I tried to bigger doses than the ones recommended. Had to make it a little more interesting.”

“Mhm… You know you’re cleaning everything though, right?” John asked playfully.

“Right. Yes. Of course. Wouldn’t dream on leaving it like that.” Sherlock was sporting a smirk to which John only shook his head (probably in order to hide the small smile that was tugging on his lips).

“Can we eat at Angelo’s tonight?” Rosie asked John, looking up to him.

John looked at Sherlock. “I don’t know, I’m okay with that, considering we won’t be able to use the kitchen for a while, what about you Sherlock?”

Sherlock felt suspicious, Rosie was wearing a far too angelic expression for it to be real. And there was a glint in her look that told Sherlock she was up to something.

“Please!” And there it was, the adorable face only Watsons could pull off. He sighed in defeat and resigned himself to endure whatever Rosie had planned.

“Alright…”

Within the next hour, Sherlock found himself sitting at a table, with Angelo making assumptions about his relationships with John and Rosie. To his grand surprise, John made no effort to correct him and just smiled politely, neither confirming nor denying Angelo’s statements. Maybe for one evening, Sherlock could pretend he had everything he wanted.

They ate, talked, laughed, and when dessert arrived, Rosie made a grave face and cleared her throat solemnly.

“I have to ask you something, Daddy, Papa,” Sherlock’s eyes widened at the use of that nickname in presence of John. One quick look to the man across from him was enough to tell him he wasn’t the only one startled by it. Whatever was happening that couldn’t be good. “I want my own room.”

They both stared, until Sherlock spoke again (which he immediately regretted). “That wasn’t a question, you didn’t ask us anything Rosie.”

“Er yes… I want you to get married.”

At this, John choked on nothing (maybe air or his own saliva) and Sherlock’s body went tense. Was Rosie going to tell John everything, first the nickname then the feelings, thinking it was a good idea?

John recovered quickly than Sherlock because he was the one to talk next. “Rosie! We can’t get married! Why would you suggest that!” The doctor was chuckling nervously. Sherlock couldn’t even deduce anything about his friend’s thoughts about this very idea because he was too afraid. Afraid that his (almost) perfect little life might stop being so perfect in the span of a few seconds.

“But why?!” She cried. “Papa would become my real father, I would have my own room, and besides-” _Here it was, the end of this wonderful friendship. Goodbye John, goodbye Rosie._ “-you’re both in love! Papa even told me he loved you! That’s how it works right? People who are in love get married!”

Sherlock slowly opened his tightly shut eyes, to see a very embarrassed John trying to get Rosie to talk normally and stop practically screaming. The detective took a deep, steadying breath. “John I’m very sorry, I shouldn’t have let your daughter know about that. It was an accident, I promise, but still, it’s not something a child should feel obligated to handle. You can have the apartment I wouldn’t take that away from you but can I-”

“What are you on about Sherlock?” John was looking directly into Sherlock’s eyes, his gaze full of incomprehension and… hope?

Rosie sighed loudly. “Papa loves you, but he thinks you don’t love him. It’s stupid…” And she started muttering about how stupid the whole story was.

John’s gaze (still fixed on Sherlock’s) silently asked if all of this was true. Sherlock could only nod, not trusting himself to speak any more than he already had.

Suddenly, John was sporting the widest smile Sherlock had ever seen on his friend’s face. “Sherlock I-” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought I missed my chance with you I - I thought I fuck-messed up everything…”

It was Sherlock’s turn to be confused. However, he didn’t have much time to wonder what that incoherent babbling was about because John Hamish Watson’s bloody _lips_ were on his and every hope of lucid thoughts was lost forever in the deepest part of his Mind Palace, and all that remained was _John_.

The moment the soft skin of John’s lips touched his, Sherlock let out a surprised (and frankly embarrassing) noise but quickly recovered and happily reciprocated John’s actions. It’s slow and tentative and almost shy and Sherlock cannot find it anything but perfect.

“Ewwww! That’s so. gross. I shouldn’t have said all that!” They broke of their kiss (much to Sherlock’s displeasure, but he now that he knew he had all the time in the world to keep doing that, he didn’t really mind) and turned toward Rosie. She was scrunching up her nose in apparent (and exaggerated) disgust.

John started to laugh uncontrollably, and even Sherlock couldn’t keep a smile off his face. He was just so damn happy!

They walked home, Rosie in the middle holding one of Sherlock’s hands and one of John’s. The doctor kept smooching Sherlock wherever he could reach to annoy his daughter but Sherlock knew that it was also because he wanted to. Which brought ridiculous warmth into his chest.

“I don’t really care about having my own room you know. I just wanted you to tell each other you were in love.” That’s what a sleepy Rosie had said before yawning and going to sleep (in her own bedroom/John’s and hers ex-shared bedroom/John’s ex-bedroom).

“It’s kind of embarrassing that it’s Rosie who arranged everything isn’t it?” John had asked in the darkness of their bedroom ( _their_ bedroom! Sherlock couldn’t get over that), his voice muffled by Sherlock’s wild hair.

“It is. It really is. But she’s quite smart, isn’t she?”

John hummed in agreement. “Maybe she could be the second Consulting Detective in this world?” They both chuckled and Sherlock relaxed even more in John’s arms when the latter pressed a kiss to his temple.

His last thoughts before falling asleep was that he ought to thank the little Consulting Detective to-be for making his life so much better than it already was.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very much aware of my writing skills, or lack thereof, the story wasn't completely planned as I wrote it, the end is rushed, but I hope you still managed to enjoy it!  
> Any kind of advice and criticism is welcome and appreciated!  
> Here is my tumblr (not my main account so I don't post much eheh): https://gayavocad0.tumblr.com/  
> Thank you for reading this and have a nice day/night!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Consultive Detective to-be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034663) by [EmyRiddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmyRiddle/pseuds/EmyRiddle)




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